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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29354244">Fantastic Phenomena</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/autocatic/pseuds/autocatic'>autocatic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Denial of Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, Grandpa Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), M/M, Multi, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, a bit of philosophy if you squint, meeting at a bar, need a beta reader!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:28:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29354244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/autocatic/pseuds/autocatic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about life is that it’s unpredictable. One day, you’re the most intelligent man in the multiverse who lives with his daughter, and occasionally hops through universes; and the other, you’re sitting in a bar, talking to a man in a fez hat who might very possibly change your whole life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Stan Pines/Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fantastic Phenomena</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rick Sanchez couldn’t fathom why humans were the pity, idiotic things that they were. Despite being a scientist, and the most intelligent man in the multiverse, he still hadn’t completely understood the human nature.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’d lived long enough to accept that all human are inherently flawed, and that no one is, or can be, flawless. It simply was impossible, in so many ways. He believed, deeply, that there was no ideal way to be, or to live. Each individual has their own notion about what is ideal, and what is best. Therefore, there is no such thing as ‘ideal’.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As a child, Rick thought that some people were born corrupt, rapacious, and ugly. But as he grew older, he began to realize that all humans are the same; they were all born with the ugly, evil tendencies. However, acting upon these tendencies is determined by how one is brought up, as well as how they manage emotions, and cope with difficulties.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Have you ever noticed how some people would go ape-shit when they’re angry? It’s because they can’t manage their anger, and instead express it by acting barbarically. And when they do so, they unintentionally (or intentionally) show a little bit of their innate <em>ugliness</em>.</span>
</p><hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rick walked idly into the bar, scanning the crowd of miserable people, drunkards, and lovers. He sat down on the barstool, and motioned for the bartender, who presently approached him. “What can I get you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rick considered ordering whiskey, neat, but then remembered that he had plenty of whiskey in his spaceship, the Space Cruiser.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not sure what I want. How about you surprise me?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bartender smiled. “Not a problem,” he said, and began preparing a drink for Rick.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rick reached his hand into a pocket in his jacket, and took out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled out one cigarette from the pack, and stuck it between his lips; then returned his hand to the same pocket, looking for his lighter, which wasn’t there.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A hand holding a lighter appeared in front of him, offering to light his cigarette. Rick turned his head to see who was the lighter offerer, and it was a man who looked to be around Rick’s age. He wore a black suit, and a fez hat; and had an ambiguous expression on his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rick drew his head toward to the lighter, and let its spark blacken the tip of his cigarette. “Thanks,” he said to the man after inhaling a puff of smoke, and exhaling it through his nose.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man nodded briefly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A swing jazz song started playing by the time the bartender slid Rick’s drink in front of him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rick stared at the dark red beverage in the fancy goblet glass. “What’s this?” he asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bartender grinned broadly, as if he was waiting for Rick to ask him that exact question. “I call it ‘Cherry-Colored Night’. It’s a mix southern comfort, Absolut vodka, grenadine, and black cherry juice,” he, enthusiastically, told Rick. “Go ahead, taste it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rick held the glass, and brought it to his lips, taking one sip; assuming beforehand that anything with southern comfort should taste good. <em>And it did taste good!</em> “You got this one right, kid,” he said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bartender couldn’t grin any wider. “Glad to hear that!” Then, he moved to attend to other customers, particularly the one next to Rick. He watched from the corner of his eye as the man, and bartender, conversed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Evening, Howard,” greeted the man.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Evening! How are you, Stanley?” asked the bartender.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The usual?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bartender (Howard) swept down behind the bar top, and came back with a lowball glass, then began preparing Stanley’s drink.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You come here often?” asked Rick, studying him. “Not a pick-up line; just genuinely curious.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stanley turned to look at him, a faint smile on his lips. “I come here as often as I can.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rick nodded fleetingly. He, then, extended his hand, offering a handshake. “I’m Rick.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stanley Pines,” the latter said, accepting the handshake. He shook firmly, and surely. (Which Rick had expected from a man as bulky as him.)</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y--you look real tired. Rough day?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stanley raised an eyebrow at Rick. “Uh... yeah. You could say that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“I--I had a rough couple weeks, myself. That’s how I wound up here. Hopped in my spa-- </span> <span class="s2">car</span> <span class="s1">, and drove all the way here. Still don’t know why, but I guess I like being on the road.” Rick paused to sip from his red cocktail. “I’m from Wa--Washington, by the way. Seattle, precisely.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bartender set Stanley’s drink in front of him, and Stanley thanked him via an appreciative bob of his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got kids, Stan? grandkids?” Rick didn’t wait for Stanley to answer. “I got a daughter, and two grandkids: a girl, and a boy. They’re all great. The boy, Morty, is like my partner in crime. He’s fourteen, shy, and dumb as shit; but we’ve managed to get along pretty well. He’s goin’ through his teenage phase right now, suffering p--puberty, an’ all that. You can smell the boy’s hormonal instability two miles away.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stanley took a sip from his drink (which was Johnnie Walker’s scotch, on the rocks). “I don’t got grandkids,” he began, “but I got two grandnephews. They’re twins -- a boy, and a girl. Both are thirteen. They’re my brother Sherman’s grandkids. The girl, Mabel, is a little ray of sunshine; she’s got the happy-go-lucky attitude, and the bright eyes. Then there’s Dipper… He’s one clever boy! Knows the answer to damn near everything.” Stanley grinned to himself, staring at his glass. “They left for California yesterday.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me guess. That’s why you’re here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stanley shrugged. “It’s one of the reasons.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As the night dragged on, Rick and Stanley talked, joked, and told stories. Their thighs would touch every now and then, but neither seemed to mind. Their bodies radiated warmth, and gradually moved closer toward each other. And the night just kept dragging on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They got up off their barstools at some point, each paying their tabs; and leaving a tip on the bar counter, before making their way to the exit door, both a little buzzed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stanley walked across the parking lot, followed by Rick, who was a bit anxious for an unknown reason. The parking lot was empty, save for a beat-up, flat-bed truck, and a shiny, maroon 1966 Ford Mustang, which turned out to be Stanley’s.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stanley looked back at Rick. “Isn’t she beautiful?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She is,” replied Rick, letting his eyes roam over the car. He thought about dying the Space Cruiser maroon red, but quickly effaced that thought.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wanna ride her?” asked Stanley.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course,” said Rick. He walked around the car, and entered through the passenger door. Once inside the car, Stanley fastened his seatbelt, and started the engine. “Hear that? That’s how my baby purrs!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, you got a nice car. W--we get it. Now, drive.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stanley grinned, then pushed the gas pedal down with his right foot, and drove out of the parking lot, and away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The drive to the motel (in which Rick was staying) had been oddly quiet. When they arrived at the motel, Stanley cut the engine, and kept silent. Rick looked at him, only to see that Stanley was looking at him, too.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You goin’ back to Gravity Falls tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stanley nodded. “It’s an hour’s drive from La Grande.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Some moments of awkward silence passed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, it was nice knowing you, Rick,” said Stanley.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rick could see something in the man’s expression; something which he couldn’t pinpoint, or name. “It was nice knowing you, too, Stan,” he replied.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was just about to open the door, and step out of the car, when his entire brain yelled at him to ‘fuckin’ grow a pair’. So, Rick turned to face Stanley, again, and probably said something sappy; because Stan was gazing at him with glistening eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And before Rick knew it, they were sharing a kiss so soft, and gentle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At some point, Rick decided to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into Stanley’s mouth, and kissing voraciously, exploring the latter’s mouth with skilled movements of his tongue. He bit, nibbled, and licked, enjoying every lecherous, needy sound that Stanley made. Then, he unbuttoned Stanley’s first two shirt buttons, and trailed kisses along his neck, and jaw. Stanley moaned gruffly into Rick’s mouth and moaned again as Rick’s lips glided over his skin. By God, he was awfully touch-starved.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Spend the night,” Rick rasped out into his ear. “Please. I wanna fuck you so, </span> <em> <span class="s2">so</span> </em> <span class="s1"> bad.”</span></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Kudos, and comments, are much appreciated. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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